


Another One

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [3]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry seems pretty confident he knows where babies come from, and he’s determined for a little brother or sister. Follows on from “Inherited Traits” and “The Weight of Disappointment and Other Children’s Stories”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another One

**Author's Note:**

> After a difficult couple of days at work, I needed to write something light hearted!

“I’m going to play in the back garden,” Harry announced rather decisively one Saturday morning. Richard had been hoping to finish the newspaper and his tea before Harry wanted attention, but it seemed that it was not meant to be. Camille smirked at him over her own coffee, though sometimes she complained, times like these she didn’t mind that Harry was a daddy’s boy.

“What are we playing then?” He hoped it wasn’t pirates or any of Harry’s more active made up games, his back was still bothering him from having to tackle a criminal during an arrest earlier in the week. He felt distinctly old when Fidel easily manhandled the detainee off the ground and led him away.

“No, I’m going to play by myself. You and Mummy should stay here,” Harry said this rather firmly, much to the surprise of both his parents. Richard knew he should be grateful he could finish breakfast in peace, but all the normal anxieties that Harry seemed to induce bubbled up to the surface. He wasn’t worried about the boy’s safety. Shortly after Harry had dragged himself up onto all fours (something he became rapidly proficient in, clearly having inherited Camille’s coordination skills) Richard had requested Fidel and Dwayne’s help in securing the garden. Only something smaller than an ant could get in or out of the back garden, and he practically completed a fingertip search of the place to identify anything that a child could harm themselves on. He would be perfectly fine out there by himself, Richard was just a little worried about why he wanted to be alone – didn’t he love him anymore?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Camille said, and he wondered if he’d spoken out loud. She’d just returned to the table after helping Harry with his shoe laces. Seeing the look of confusion on his face she continued. “I’m sure he still wants to play with you, he probably is out there making some sort of surprise. Either that or he’s inherited your desire to _just be left in peace for five minutes,”_ She said the last bit imitating him, and Richard felt it was a little unfair as he hadn’t said anything  along those lines since the marvellous day he learnt that she loved him. He narrowed his eyes at her, making no response, but she just flashed him a grin and started to gather plates and cups together, and he went back to the paper.

It was approximately two minutes later (Richard had just finished the Editorial) when Harry burst back through the door and asked excitedly, “Did you make one yet?”

Since Camille normally had a better clue as to what their child meant when he asked such disjointed questions, Richard turned to her in confusion, but she looked as clueless as him, “Made what, my sweet boy?”

Harry crossed his arms and sighed with exasperation, it was such a perfect imitation of him that Richard squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, “A baby of course!”

 

* * *

 

 

“What?” Richard practically shouted, it really wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Pancakes, perhaps, Harry was obsessed with them, but not a baby. Camille gave him a look to indicate he should temper his tone, and Richard cleared his throat before continuing, “Why would you think we’d be making a baby, Harry?”

“I asked Rosie about how to get a brother or sister and she said that parents have to be left alone to make babies,” Harry explained to them patiently.

“Takes a bit more than two minutes, Harry,” Camille told him. Richard was staring at her with horror, but she couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him.

Harry looked like he was about to ask for an estimate when Richard interrupted him, asking urgently, “What else did Rosie tell you about where babies come from?”

“Not much,” Harry said, with another little sigh. “She said I had to ask you.”

“Oh Thank God,” Richard muttered. Harry was looking at him curiously, so he added, “Well she’s right.”

Camille rather expected Harry to begin an instant barrage of questions concerning the origin of babies, but the boy was apparently concerned with gaining a brother or sister as soon as possible, as he returned to the question she thought he was going to ask earlier, “So _how_ long do you need alone to make a baby?”

Whilst her dearly awkward husband was still floundering to come up with an answer, Camille stepped in and said in an exaggeratedly thoughtful manner, “Oh, maybe a whole afternoon?”

Richard spluttered, but Harry was used to his father becoming incapable of speech sometimes, so took no notice, “ _A WHOLE afternoon?_ ” he asked incredulously. “Well I suppose they are quite big. I could go and stay with Mémère!”

“Well I would have to call and see if she can manage that, you go play and let me see what I can arrange?” Harry skipped off happily back into the garden, and Camille turned to her husband to deal with him before she called her own mother.

“What are you doing?” He was definitely panicking.

“What, an afternoon in bed doesn’t sound good to you?” She gave him a wolfish grin, and he actually blushed, something she found endearing he would do after all this time.

“He’ll come home and expect to find a baby!” Richard protested.

“We can use _some_ of the time to work out what to tell him,” Camille said sensibly.

Richard checked out of the kitchen window to see if Harry had any intention of bursting back in, and then said, “He’s too young to know where babies come from!”

“Nonsense, all children start asking questions at this age, don’t they? I can remember my mother explaining the, what do you call it, bees and the flowers.”

“Birds and the bees,” Richard corrected her.

“Why would it be birds and the bees? That makes no sense,” Camille wondered if British children were left with the impression amorous relationships may occur between the two creatures.

“Oh never mind that! Are you seriously telling me that your mother explained sex to you at four?”

“Well, not every detail, but yes. Why what did your parents tell you?”

“They said they found me under a gooseberry bush,” he used the tone of voice that implied she should not dare question the sensibility of that statement, but Camille couldn’t help it, she burst into laughter.

“Well I don’t think that would work here. We aren’t exactly overrun with gooseberry bushes on Saint Marie and knowing Harry he’ll just start trying to grow one in the back garden. Now let me call my Mother.”

They got lucky, Camille’s mother was perfectly willing to take Harry out that afternoon. There was some minor voodoo festival she would show him around, though Camille decided to leave that little fact out when she told Richard her mother would be here at one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry was very enthusiastic but brief in his goodbyes to his parents, and Richard watched as he practically dragged Catherine down the street away from the house. Camille waited at the door to wave in case Harry turned back, but the child was clearly determined that they be left alone and was soon out of sight.

“Right,” Richard began, realising he might be using the voice he normally reserved for team briefings. “I can understand you want to be honest with Harry, but I really think you’re the one who’ll have to do the explanations.”

Camille giggled, which he expected, and then said kindly, “Yeah, I agree with you there. But don’t be surprised if he comes to ask you more questions once I’m done!”

“Maybe there’s a book,” Richard thought out loud, and ignored the snort of laughter that came from Camille. “I suppose the most important bit really is trying to tell him there won’t be another baby without getting him too upset.”

There was no immediate response to that statement, but Richard felt the change in the atmosphere immediately. He looked up and Camille was no longer smiling, amused by his discomfit, but instead looked pretty damn disappointed herself. A dawning realisation left Richard feeling both overwhelmingly guilty and terrified.

“Oh God, you want another one don’t you?”

“I…” She started. “Don’t you?”

“Well, I thought we were done, yeah,” he explained. “Camille, if we have another child now, I, well, I’ll be _so old._ People will think I’m the kid’s granddad when I go to pick them up at school!”

“You said me and Harry make you feel young,” Camille said, looking a little teary now.

“Psychologically, yes, but I’m afraid you can’t reverse the aging process. Bloody back is evidence of that.” She was still looking distraught. “You _really_ want another one?”

“Don’t you think it would be nice to have a little girl?” She asked, looking hopeful.

“Well we don’t exactly get to decide that,” Richard said, allowing some exasperation to creep into his tone. There was no way if they had another boy he was going to agree to keep going until they got a girl. Oh God, he’d already mentally given in.

“Obviously the _most_ important thing would be a nice healthy baby brother or sister for Harry, but I did read online how you can increase your chances of a girl. Apparently I need to eat a dairy rich diet, and we should try just before and after I ovulate.” He looked at her doubtfully, and she added, “It’s all based on science!”

Richard would quite like to see those scientific studies, he had a feeling that the peer review process was probably missing entirely or extremely lenient, but Camille was a grown woman who could eat what she wanted and definitely take him to bed whenever she liked, so perhaps he should let this eccentricity slide like he had hundreds beforehand. She was smiling at him knowingly, and he raised his eyebrows, “What?”

“You’re going to say yes,” she told him confidently.

“Of course I am, I can’t say no to you. Or Harry. And since you both want a baby, then so do I,” He told her. “And a girl _would_ be quite nice.”

She stood up and took him by the hand, making a show of helping him up, “Well we have a whole afternoon to work on it. I’m pretty sure you’ll prove you aren’t as old as you think.”

“Yeah, but we won’t be though because your still on The Pill.” She was giving him a look he’d received a thousand times, the one that said that accuracy was not always sexy.

“Well I guess you’re right, can’t possibly go to bed then,” She said sarcastically. “The garage needs cleaning out,” she suggested, moving off in that direction.

Richard caught her and pulled her in close, kissing her in the sort of manner that made his intentions for the afternoon very clear.

 

* * *

 

 

He left Camille dozing in bed, because what she had said was true, the garage _did_ need a good cleaning out and it’d be a lot easier without Harry under his feet. He didn’t need Camille’s help though, he was feeling pretty smug about managing to tire her out. Perhaps she was right, he wasn’t past it yet.

An hour or so later he was staring at Harry’s old pushchair, wondering if it would be suitable to use again in the future, when he heard his son’s excited voice floating down the road. Suddenly he realised that Harry may well be expecting a baby awaiting him, and that he and Camille had never agreed on how to explain why there wasn’t one.

“Daddy!” he shouted, appearing at the garage door. “Mémère said it takes nine months to make a baby, not one afternoon!”

“I told him the first part can take an afternoon, but the rest took nine months,” Catherine said, joining Harry in the doorway. “That’s all I told him, he did seem to think there would be a baby here.”

“Right, yes, your grandmother is right. Nine months,” Richard stumbled over the confirmation.

“That’s like, as long as it takes to make a fossil!” Harry complained dramatically. “Where’s mummy?”

“She’s, um, taking a nap,” Richard said, blushing. He was pretty embarrassed Camille’s mother now knew _exactly_ how they had spent the afternoon.

Harry bounded happily into the house, and Richard came out of the garage and invited Catherine into the house.

“So, is another grandchild in my future then?” The woman asked, smiling at Richard’s discomfit in a manner that reminded him strongly of her daughter.

“That’s the plan,” he confirmed.

“Well in that case I’d be happy to take Harry whenever you and Camille need some privacy. It’s always a pleasure to look after him anyway.” Richard made appropriate grateful sounding murmurs, and hoped Harry was waking Camille up enough that she would shortly come out and rescue him.

Harry came zooming round the corner, squealing excitedly, “Mummy is naked! Mummy is naked!” Catherine smiled patiently at the child, whilst Richard wished the ground would swallow him up.

“And why exactly is that so exciting, Harry?”

“Well Rosie said you had to be naked to make a baby as well.”

Richard threw his hands up in despair, whilst Catherine began laughing so hard, she almost doubled over. Harry, clueless as to why making babies was apparently so funny, returned to harass his mother some more.

Next time he saw Rosie, he’d ask why grownups were so weird. 


End file.
